All of seventeen
Eyes a purple green
Treated like a queen
She was on borrowed self-esteem
She would do her dance
A painful masquerade
Spinning you into her web
Along her vain parade
In her uniform
Studded brass and steel
Kissing napkin lipstick stains
And smearing sincerity

(Chorus)

Time crept up on her
She's early gray
Her reflection looks concerned
And flowers hit her grave